The Man with a Secret

Turned holy thoughts to evil--made me dread To face the fearless looks of honest men, Le

ilway station, Duxby Junction, to which steam and electricity continually carried the news of the world, was fully twenty miles distant, so that in this out of-the-wa

armers going there on market days sold their cattle and wheat, picked up such small items of news as had drifted thither from Duxby, then returned to their homes perfectly satisfied with life and with themselves. Well-to-do folks were these yeomen, for many rich farms lay hidden in th

worn by time, said to have been erected by one Geoffrey Garsworth on his return from the third crusade. As a proof of this, there could be seen amid the carvings, representations of palm branches and scallop shells, both symbolical of eastern vegetation and pilgrim wanderings; but Dr. Larcher, the vicar of Garsworth--an ardent archaeologist--maintained that the c

sque style, remarkably fine stained glass windows, and a high, elaborately carved roof of dark oak. Standing at the end of the village, near the bri

to the Gar. From its grounds could be seen the graceful span of the bridge, a somewhat modern structure, which led on to a wide common overgrown with golden

de, diamond-paned casements, with rows of flower-pots containing bright, scarlet geraniums standing on the broad ledges, and on the left a tall gable jutted out some distance from the main building, while in the corner, thus formed, was the huge porch, with its cumbersome benches for the convenience of village cronies. The space in front was of cobbled stones down to the street, and there stood the tal

w light into the chilly darkness, and the new comer could hear the murmur of men's voices, with every now and then a coarse laugh, while the smell of stale tobacco permeated the atmosphere. Evidently the village gossips were

tood waiting orders in stolid silence. A large, fat man was Mr. Kossiter, with a large, fat face ruddy with health, a brain of bovin

eaning against the wall and surveying the rotund propo

the stranger and repeated the words s

"a bed for to-night and summat to

ully. "Get something ready at once and sho

siter mechanically, "to

looking young woman, in a neat print gow

ing given all the requisite information he rolled slowly away to attend to the wants of the rustics in the

s, "if I'd only knowed as you was comin', I'd have got thin

he entered the bedroom and took off his knapsack

g with her hand on the handle of th

kles--whatever there is. I

ther gentleman, sir, will you?" a

shly, a dark shadow crossing

r alarmed at his tone of voice. "I'll

d Nestley, sitting down on the be

oesn't matter, he won't do me any more harm, I've got no money, and Beaumont doesn'

he made himself respectable. Having washed the dust of the road from his face and hands, he brushed his clothes, arranged his hair, an

le which stood near him, he filled a glass with water and drank it off. His meal being ended he lighted his pipe, and drawing his chair up to the fire, with a sigh of gratitude, gave himself up to his reflections. The lamp shone with a dim, yellow light, but the ruddy glare of the fire lighted up the room and gleamed on the polished furniture and plaster ceiling. Truly a pleasant place to dream i

place and, leaning against the mantelpiece, looked

" he asked coolly, re

g you," growled the doctor

observed Mr. Beaumont, a

observation Nestley

to come into this roo

Basil, smoothly. "It is a public room;

against the mantelpiece. On his part, Beaumont slipped his hands into his pockets, crossed his long legs and, after glancing cur

we meet as enemies. I am not, as a rule, curious

enough," said N

ning your life. Pray tell me how--I don't think," observed Mr. Beau

s mouth. The artist went on smoking placidly, waiting for the other to speak, so seei

said, slowly. "Five years ago, wh

ed Beaumont, insolently. "

is feet. "You taught me things of which I had bett

at cards," murmure

ntrollable agitation, "you had that, and welcome--one must pay for one's experience, I supp

"why, I never drink wine to ex

l, but you were always at my elbow, tempting me to have another glass. My weaker will was overcome by your stronger one. I took drink, and it made me mad, causing me to commit a thousand follies for which I was no more responsible than a child. I got into the habit of taking drinks all day. You encouraged me--God knows why, except for your own selfish ends. Had I remained with you, I would have been in a lunatic asylum or in the gutter but, thank God,

ense emotion by Nestley, but at its conclusion shrugged his shoul

e wrong. I did meet you in London, and out of kindness introduced you into decent

ways urging

u to drink when I did, yet I

take and I could take were two very different thin

lighted the cigaret

tely. "When you found drink did yo

ink that an

ld be--

trol. I was young, inexperienced, enthusiastic, you were cool, calculating and cynical. You drank three times as much as I

smiled sa

this was five years ago--why

et how you tri

ot of unnecessary trouble. However, I don't wish to argue any longer. You reject my friendship, so I've nothing more to say. I daresay

laughing uproariously, then the sharp bark of a dog, and in another moment a large black cat, with her fur al